Mide’s Abor with Olamide Longe
Email: araokian@gmail.com Twitter: @araokian
It was the last day of the year and Hannah was having a party. She wasn’t going to have one, but when she thought about how wonderful the year had been; she’d got a promotion at work and had been able to finish the house she’d been building for her parents in her hometown – a dream house for that matter – she decided there was enough reason to throw a party.
It wasn’t a big one, just her closest friends and some colleagues from work. She’d had the cooking done by one of the best caterers in town and her guests had the choices of pounded yam, jollof rice and fried rice, amala and a variety of side dishes. There was also a big cake that had everyone salivating. Drinks were of the soft variety and in abundance. No beer.
Beer was an absolute no-no. She had a few bottles of hard drinks tucked away in a cabinet somewhere, for when she had her occasional cravings, but no one was getting drunk on her watch; certainly not in her house.
Her guests served themselves from a long table laid out in the middle of the dining room that had been cleared of its everyday furniture and set up as the hall for the occasion. Guests also had the option of sitting outside. She had hired two ad hoc helpers to make sure everyone was well taken care of. Soft music played, lending a soothing atmosphere; her baby brother was in charge of music. He was set up in a corner. She’d told him the kind of music she wanted. None of those same sounding ubiquitous party jams for her. Last night he’d shown her the selections he’d made and she had been well pleased.
She watched him now with an indulgent smile, as he chewed on a drumstick like someone without any care in the world. After her parents, he was her favourite. He occupied the BQ at the back of the house, but had his meals with her and basically had a free run of the house. Only her room, her sanctum, was out of bounds to him without her permission. He knew how she adored him and sometimes used it to devastating effect. But, he was all in all a good person.
Satisfied with the way of things, she grabbed a bottle of malt and a glass cup and went to her sitting room, to rest for a bit. She had been on her feet for hours ensuring that everything turned out right. The sitting room was big. A couch sat against one wall, an armchair was placed adjacent to it. A huge TV dominated the wall that faced the couch. Two big round rust coloured Hausa leather cushions lay in the middle on a lush caramel carpet. A book case was tucked in a nook.
Hannah reclined on the couch, quietly sipping her drink. She reached for a glossy magazine that was on the occasional table and began to flip through it absent-mindedly. She was thinking many things at the same time.
“Success was accomplishing the goals you have set for yourself.”
Hannah toasted herself. By dint of hard work and good fortune, she’d been able to accomplish so much in a relatively short time. She was the pride of her parents. Her siblings admired and looked up to her. She had wonderful friends, and this wonderful house.
She should be satisfied.
She dropped the magazine.
Her mother had called this morning to wish her well and a successful party. She’d also expressed the desire that Hannah would not have a party. She shouldn’t be so flamboyant with her accomplishments in order not to scare away suitors.
There was always just one thing left to do.
You could never satisfy people.
But you could try.
And there was always that one thing you wanted.
Amongst her guests was Philemon, A tall, lanky man with a full head of hair and a grin that outshone MacLean’s. She’d met and gone on dates with some fascinating men, but none had sent her pulse racing like this man, who stood now in the midst of mutual friends chatting away on some topic that seemed exciting to them.
He was a good friend, completely unaware of her true feelings.
She allowed her eyes to rest on him. To feed on him.
As if he felt the pull of her gaze, he turned his head.
She smiled and raised her glass to him.
He smiled back and broke away from the others.
… continues next week
